Curly One
by Demigirl17
Summary: Prequel to "Little One", the tale of a young Sherlock growing up under Lestrade's guidance, but not without costs. Moriarty, Sally Donavan, and more refuse to believe Sherlock could ever be more than a Sith. But Lestrade believes Sherlock to be better than that, the boy is his curly one after all.
1. Chapter 1

Greg wasn't deaf.

His master was mumbling obscene, rude comments under his breath as the young knight scouted ahead of the others. His sight was keen on detecting the Sith, he wanted to spot him first. There was a bit of glory in it, but to be fair he also wanted to put an end to this war.

His former master called him to attention, but the silver haired knight brushed him off. "Not your padawan anymore." He said brusquely, he hadn't been a padawan for six years. Greg began edging towards the outer rim of the forest when rough hands seized him around the scruff of the neck. The young knight hissed.

"You may not be mine anymore, but you will obey my orders. Is that understood?"

_No._

Greg was not a child to be scolded anymore, he was no longer desperately in search of his master's rare approval.

Master Chief.

The other Jedi literally called the old man, Master Chief.

"I understand, Master." Greg mumbled tiredly. "I am merely asking that you do not treat me as your learner anymore. I am capable…"

"Of getting yourself in trouble." The elder master smarted. Greg winced at the old man's words. If it were up to his master, even at the age of thirty-one standard years, Greg would still be a padawan learner.

Greg nodded evenly. "Yes, Master. Forgive my outburst, Master." Greg mumbled. The older man had enforced a still obedience in the young knight in his first years of apprenticeship. The torturing pressure let up at the base of the knight's neck. He stumbled away from his former master until he was in a clearing. He tried to swallow his anger at the old man, the elder had raised him, Greg should have been gratefully.

Aside from the countless self-esteem issues, Greg had turned out alright.

Greg stuffed his hands in the pockets of his outer tunics. The old master treated him as incompetent child, the young Jedi was rated in the top ten of the upcoming knights. What more did the master want from him? Greg kicked a rock aside with a huff of anger.

It clanked against nothingness.

Greg paused.

And kicked another rock.

Another clank against nothing.

Greg grinned fiercely.

_Qui Gon Jinn, get over here._

oOo

Sherlock gazed at himself in the mirror.

He was completely dressed in black at his master's order. An old light saber hung at his hip, the legendary Bane's light saber, apparently. His hair was greased back, and he had dark black cargo pants as well as a muscle shirt. Sherlock glared at the black muscle shirt. It was stupid, really. He was ten and not properly fed, there were no muscles to show off.

Sherlock touched the light saber at his hip.

He could escape now.

If he really tried, he could get free.

"You look so cute, Sherlock." His master's voice sang from the doorway. The child stiffened.

"And you look like something the rancor spat out, Master." Sherlock mumbled hatefully. Moriarty reached forward and snatched the child's chin his hand. Sherlock knew better than to struggle, he could be a smart arse to his heart's content, but to physically struggle was punishable by brutality.

"Sherlock, Sherlock, apple of my eye." Moriarty released the chin with a small shove. Sherlock looked away painfully. He hated the way Moriarty towered above him, one day the boy would have the opportunity to kill the Sith. "You will lead the alpha team against the Jedi in the north. Keep them at bay and meet with me once they are dead."

"Yes, Master."

"I need at least twenty minutes to secure all the crystals."

"Wouldn't it be more efficient to leave more soldiers in your cause, Master?"

Moriarty cracked the child across the jaw. Sherlock barely flinched, compared to normal the punishing hit had been a gentle swat. Moriarty chuckled. "I want as many Jedi to die as possible, Sherlock. And with your gift they may just throw themselves on your saber."

"Yes, Master." Sherlock said bitterly.

"Go." His owner shoved him into a dimly lit hall. A ten year old sent out to kill Jedi knights and masters.

Sherlock rolled his eyes as he found his way outside the base.

Moron.

oOo

Sherlock was protecting Rica.

His eight year old counterpart was swinging an unpracticed spear at an incoming knight, the female knight merely cut the spear in two and grinned. Sherlock lunged at her viscously, he disarmed the surprised knight with ease. He shoved Rica behind him.

"Go!"

"Not without you, fur face!" The girl smirked defiantly.

"Insufferable woman!" Sherlock ducked under the green light saber and shoved his friend aside. "Rica go find Moran, tell him to bring more forces this way."

Rica nodded and scuttled away to obey him. The ten year old swallowed hard as another knight and another boy came into view. He steadied his shaking light saber only to have it swatted away by the knight with grey hair.

_No, not knight._

The master with the grey hair.

Sherlock swore as a small amount of urine leaked down his leg. He was a ten year old boy, he couldn't stand up to a Jedi master. The older boy frowned down at the young child.

"He just pissed himself! All these attackers are kids, Master. Why…?"

"To prevent us from wanting to attack them, young one." The female knight scolded sternly. "Except most of their eyes are red." She leaned towards the dark hair child, Sherlock clenched his jaw firmly. She raised the hilt of her light saber and cracked it across the child's forehead, swinging it around dramatically she landed a strong blow to his wrist. Sherlock hardly flinched. "Son of a Sith's whore."

"My master hits harder than that." Sherlock tried to snarl, but merely managed a squeak. He wished they'd just kill him. He took a deep breath in and reached for the dark side. "Leave me alone." He said calmly, the Force washed through him and immediately the knight and padawan began to retreat.

The grey haired master snatched the boy's wrist in a bone crushing grasp. Sherlock yelped in pain as the broken bones cracked farther. The grey haired master picked up the curved light saber of Lord Bane. "A Sith's apprentice. How interesting?"

Sherlock felt the front of his black shirt being grasped in a knurled hand. The boy growled audibly at the grey haired man.

The grey haired master smiled as he pulled the boy's pants down and located the child's brand burned into the top of his thigh. Sherlock felt himself growing sicker in the master's hand.

"I shall have fun interrogating you, boy."

oOo

Sherlock wondered if getting captured counted as running away.

His master always looked for reasons to punish him, no doubt this would be one of worst beatings in his life. Sherlock buried his head in his knees and whimpered. He didn't care, he could be sad when no one was watching.

Ignoring the pain in his broken wrist Sherlock pulled out his reed pipes, the only thing he had every owned. His head continued to ache as he gave a soft blow into the corner. The steady playing of his pipes soothed him.

Until the dull thud of a medical kit was set down.

Sherlock whipped his pipes into their usual hiding spot and snarled fiercely. "If you come any closer…I will bite you. I mean it. You're already limping, I can take you." Sherlock noted the small dragging noise and the eagerness the stranger had to sit down.

The strange man was chuckling. "Shut up, kid. I'm not here to hurt you." He scooted closer to the boy, Sherlock bared his teeth. "How did you know I was limping?"

Sherlock snorted. The man was clearly stupid, any idiot could tell the man was limping. Sherlock informed him of such and finished with his favorite swear word. He brought his gaze up to glare at the stranger, if he was going to be beaten he wanted to see it coming.

The man flinched.

Friendly brown eyes were narrowing at Sherlock's head wound, the stranger's face looked young and tanned, but his hair was silver. Sherlock narrowed his own eyes at the Jedi knight.

"Hundark? Ouch. How old are you, kid? You seem younger than the others." The man sounded patient, but indifferent. Sherlock gave him a surprised look.

"None of your damn…"

"Oh for the love of Force, shut up if you don't want to talk. You have the right to be silent you know?"

Sherlock's spirit crumbled.

There was the cruelty he had grown used to.

He glared down at his dirtied feet, wishing for boots or a shirt. Anything to get the stranger to stop staring at him. "What kind of interrogator tells their victim to shut up? No wonder you haven't made the rank of master yet, silver haired hundark." Anyone with silver hair in the Jedi organization should have been a master.

To Sherlock's great surprise the man chuckled warmly. "I was born with silver hair, despicable one. I am only thirty-one." He showed the boy the bandages. "If I unlock your wrists will you hit me in the nose?"

"Probably."

"At least you're honest." The stranger allowed Sherlock to watch the broad hands at all times, so the child was not scared of being hit. Sherlock decided against striking the Jedi's nose. "Thank you for not knocking my head off." He said kindly.

Sherlock threw a halfhearted, "not interesting enough" insult at the stranger. The truth was he was secretly intrigued by the kindness of the man. The silver haired man grinned.

"Oh no?" The knight huffed indignantly. "I bet you twenty Republic credits I can get you to let me clean your head wound with this thumb." The stranger held up his right thumb temptingly. "I love me a good gamble. What do you say, kid?"

The boy tilted his head curiously. "That's illogical." It wasn't possible to detain someone with a mere thumb.

The stranger gave an infectious lopsided grin. "Then you've got nothing to worry about."

Sherlock shot him a skeptical look. The stranger frowned slightly.

"First tell me how old you are. I already told you my age, fair trade and all."

The boy scowled. "I'm ten."

"Ten? Force that's old. Pretty soon you'll have hair like mine." The stranger shook his short hair. Sherlock nearly smiled back at the tall Jedi. The elder's face softened.

"Think you could just let me clean that instead of making me force you?" He pointed at the head wound cautiously.

"You just don't want to lose the bet." The boy said shortly.

The silver haired man frowned. "Alright, I'll prove it first." He sighed and pressed his thumb under the child's jawline with slight pressure until the boy was pinned against the wall. "Try to move."

Sherlock wiggled under the firm pressure. Pins and needles shot down the child's slender neck and into his injured wrist. Sherlock let an odd whimpering sound, he froze with horror.

"Kid?"

"You've made you point." The child snapped in pain. He couldn't believe how poorly he felt. Being defeated by a thumb, how embarrassing? The elder seemed to be pondering, friendly brown eyes gleamed mischievously at him.

"Would you like to try it?" The hands cleaning the boy's wounds froze.

The child was stunned.

Was the Jedi giving him permission to attack?

"The move I mean. Want to give it a shot, Curly?" He stopped applying medicine and looked into the child's confused blue eyes. Sherlock squirmed slightly at the new nickname, it wasn't an insult. It almost sound affectionate. Slowly, ever so slowly, the boy nodded. "Come 'ere. Hold out your legs, that's it."

Sherlock was free, free and able to attack the Jedi, who had put his guard completely down. "Alright ready?"

Sherlock held out his thumb nervously. Surely the Jedi would change his mind, surely it was a trick for the Jedi to beat him with cause, surely…

The thumb was carefully guided to the sensitive skin below the jaw line. "Alright light pressure, if you put on too much I'll just turn my head and get away." The boy obeyed him until the knight's cheek was pressed deep into the wall. He grinned down at the boy. "See."

Sherlock was stunned. He met no resistance, no hatred, the stupid knight was actually beaming at him. The child released him, his wrist throbbed. "Um…could you…" He held out his wrist pathetically.

"Course." The Jedi knelt in front of the child with a small smile. Sherlock resisted the childish urge to hug the adult, it was stupid, idiotic. The knight was removing his robe and drawing it across the boy's slender shoulders. Sherlock bit down a sob.

"You're kind?" Sherlock wrapped himself in the robe tighter, the cold was bitter in the cell. Sherlock had spent two nights shivering and praying for warmth.

"I try. I try to teach compassion as well as feel it." The child's arm was finally wrapped in strong bandages, the pain subsided slightly. The knight held on to the wrist gently.

"Even for Siths?" The child's voice was barely a whisper. At any moment the knight would surely realize his mistake of kindness and slap the boy in some way. Beat him, yell at him, maybe even whip him. Sherlock trembled harder.

"Curly…you don't seem dark to me. Any man who has chosen dark, can choose light again if he is not fully dark."

"I am though. I am dark. The Sith's only padawan." Sherlock cursed himself for declaring his evil to the knight.

"Young one, in here the force does not exist. Dark and light are not present here. There is a man and a child. And the elder always protects the younger." He spoke gently and firmly at the same time. Sherlock leaned closer to him. "When you walk out of this cell you can choose to accept dark once more, or you can come into the light." He pulled out a small packet of water from the medical pack. "Drink."

If anyone else had ordered him the water would have been spat back into the handsome face, but the kindness in the knight's eyes drove the child to drink it all. Slowly, unsurely the boy asked for more.

His request was granted. "Slower this time, kid. Are those your pipes?"

"Yes…"Sherlock nursed his water, unwilling to talk of his pipes. "I don't think you were supposed to give me water. I think they want to keep me weak so I couldn't escape."

He glanced at the stranger. He knew he had tugged on the right heart strings, the knight even growled angrily, perhaps he could get the knight outside the cell and force the elder to let him go.

"Why do you say that?"

Sherlock explained that for two days he had been locked up and had not been fed nor given water. His stomach groaned in hunger, the knight's face grew dark. The child wanted to shy away, but he also wanted the knight to smile again.

He didn't understand why the kind smile had felt so nice. The stranger's eyes lit up, his laugh lines became deeper, and his aura became that of a kind man.

"It's not the Order." The child could tell what the stranger thought by the look in the older man's eyes. "It's the guards." Sherlock stared at his feet as he remembered hearing them eating food that was supposed to be for him. He gripped his broken wrist tighter.

"Young one…" The voice was so gentle. The child didn't know voices could become gentle in such a way, he leaned towards it. "Who broke your arm?"

"It happened on the battle…" The boy began lying instantly. He had no idea why he was protecting his captors, but the friendly knight seemed aggravated at the thought of one of his companions hurting a Sith.

"Don't lie, kid. Jedi don't lie."

"The lady guard." He said at last. "She called me a son of a Sith whore." Sherlock's stomach churned at his childish tone of voice, for the first time in years he was close to tears. One look at the knight's friendly brown eyes and the tears spilt over his lids. The silver haired man wiped his tears away with a rag.

What sort of man was this?

"My name is Sherlock by the way."

"Sherlock." The man let it roll off his tongue, he seemed to smile slightly. "That's interesting."

"My master wanted me to change it, but…" Sherlock looked pleadingly at the Jedi. He liked his name, it was his. It may have been meant as an insult, but it was still his name. Darth Ravenous sounded stupid anyway.

"Your master is a fool for wanting to change a unique name." The elder scowled. He looked at the cell's door angrily. "Sherlock, tell me truthfully son, did you want to be the Sith's padawan?"

"Why?" The boy demanded. He felt fear creep into his heart. Of course he hadn't wanted to. His father had sold him to find information on his older brother's location.

"Tell me." The response was firm.

"No." The child said coldly. "I didn't want those crystals to touch me, so I lied and told him I was dark already. He made me prove it…but I couldn't…I couldn't…you saw the others, how they reacted."

"How did you prove it, curly one?"

The boy shook his head viciously, there was no way he would share his past with a man he just met. And his master would surely find out if Sherlock shared how to fight him. "No."

"No, what?"

"Don't ask, 'cause I won't answer." The child snarled. "I couldn't…the crystal makes you think things, Master. Terrible things, it takes away my mind, and I can't think straight. All I could think about was hatred and evil…He made me hold it because I wouldn't hurt the others…" Sherlock trembled violent as he remember how the ruby had burnt his skin and scarred him.

"Sherlock, Sherlock." The knight laid calming hands on Sherlock's thin shoulders. "Breathe deeply, okay?"

Sherlock shuddered fiercely. He had called the silver haired man "master", even though the Jedi could never be his teacher.

"You need to relax. I am proud of you for telling me the truth, Curly. I needed to hear that you were not dark before I could help you."

"Weren't you listening?!" The child shrieked. "I told you I was dark, idiot!"

When the Jedi pulled the boy against his chest, Sherlock faltered. The knight swept the boy into his arms, Sherlock felt his cheek press against the knight's strong torso. The elder wrapped the child in his robe.

"Stay completely still, understand? I will get your pipes."

"Yes." The child murmured. "This is against your rules, is it not?"

"Dull." The Jedi smiled at the child. The young knight bent over the child's corner and was disgusted as the smell of feces and urine hit his nose. Sherlock squirmed in embarrassment, the master most have felt his soiled pants the moment they stood up. He passed Sherlock his reed pipes and gave him a warm smile before moving fluidly to the exit.

The Jedi pounded on the door and claimed Sherlock ill as well as barely breathing.

The boy wrinkled his nose. "I thought Jedi didn't lie?"

"You are sick are you not? And if you hold your breath a little I wouldn't be lying." When the knight winked Sherlock knew he could not kill the elder, nor take away his free will. He pressed his cheek deeper into the chest. The knight shouldered the door and the guard that had eaten his food soared backwards. The Jedi snickered. "Whoops."

Sherlock giggled.

The elder shushed him gently, but the boy could hardly contain his laughter. He smothered his amusement against the knight's stomach.

The Jedi was swift in his movements and nearly rocked Sherlock to sleep as they arrived in the large quarters. The jolt of the door woke the child from his near sleep and Sherlock wiggled to be put down as the knight shut the door. The burns on his feet screamed as his rescuer put him down.

"Nice." He mumbled.

"Yeah."

"Clean. Not here often?"

"Hardly ever here." The master confirmed.

Sherlock tried to take in the knight's friendly face nonchalantly, but was quickly discovered. The boy blushed and turned away. A callused hand reached down, catching the chin in a firm grasp. Sherlock braced to see hateful black eye and nearly cried with relief when he saw calm brown. The boy whimpered. "What's going to happen to me now?"

"You're going to stay with me, do you accept that?"

"You mean do I accept the light, don't you?" The boy tried to look away, but Greg held his chin firmly. Why couldn't the kind man understand? He could never choose the light…not with the brand on his leg.

"Yes, Sherlock."

The child sniveled. "You don't want me, don't be foolish. I am a Sith…"

"Not if you don't want to be, kid."

Sherlock's chin was released. Surely the Jedi was fooling him, surely he wanted information on his Sith master, surely the knight wanted to beat the boy, surely Sherlock didn't care.

He threw himself against the knight's strong leg and clung to him. He silently begged the Jedi not to push him aside.

"I don't wanna be dark anymore. I hate it, I hate it, sir. Please, can I stay with you?" He sobbed.

"Course you can, kid." The knight stroked the child's sensitive skin around the soft neck. Sherlock hummed quietly at the first gentle touches he had received since young childhood, there was a tender tug on his ear. The friendly man hoisted the little boy into his arms and placed him upon a counter.

Sherlock was served tea.

"I-I never caught your name."

"Gregory Lestrade." The knight, Lestrade, held out his hand for the child to shake, Sherlock's soft skin met a calloused hand. The knight knelt before the child, his fingers quickly began wrapping the infected burns on the tiny feet. Sherlock hiccupped at the sight of the knight bowing before a Sith. "Don't." He squeaked so softly the man didn't hear him.

Sherlock took a steady breath in. "Will you be my teacher, Gregory Lestrade?"

"I'd like to be, curly one." The knight smiled. Lestrade motioned for him to finish his tea, and Sherlock was surprised with obedience. He gave a small hiccup.

"My master would not allow it. He'll come looking for me. He will." The boy started to cry again. He hated himself for crying so much, but Lestrade merely waited for him to finish. No one had ever shown him such kindness.

"I will not let him take you, kid. Not if you want to stay with me." The knight said firmly. He pulled the child into his arms, he rubbed the little boy's back comfortingly. Sherlock seemed to wither into his chest. "You could be my padawan. If you haven't bonded with the Sith."

"I haven't." The boy cried. "He wasn't my teacher, he owned me. That's what the term "master" meant to him."

"I'd like to be your teacher, Sherlock."

The child allowed himself to melt into the elder's warmth, he felt as though every move he made, he made on egg shells. No one could be that kind, no one ever was that kind. But as the knight lay the small boy on his chest and fed him a sweet tasting fruit, Sherlock nearly wept again.

"Good?" The Jedi asked gently.

"Mmhmm." The child hummed. He ate his fill happily, unconsciously he began pocketing his left overs. Lestrade noticed and shook him carefully.

"For later." The boy defended. His fingers began stuffing the pieces in his undergarments because he had no pockets, they slid in easily next to his reed pipes. "Where I come from you're lucky if you get feed more than once a week. It's instinct to scrounge."

"Little one, you don't need to scrounge anymore." He held out his hand for the extra pieces of fruit, Sherlock grudgingly gave it to him.

_Little one?_ No one had ever called him that before.

He liked it.


	2. Chapter 2

When they came to his door Greg's heart landed in throat.

They argued and of course Sherlock was woken up in the heat of Sally's shouting. Greg kept the child pressed close to him, the boy even grabbed his finger when Sally accused him of having the knight under his influence. They weren't bonded, but Sherlock's fear was thick in the air. Greg gave him a reassuring squeeze.

Yoda came forward to take Sherlock into the next room.

After rapping Greg on the buttocks with his cane.

The knight watched them go apprehensively.

Sally was on him in an instant. "What are you thinking, hundark?"

Greg narrowed his eyes at her, he tapped his boots on the floor. "He's only a little boy. How can have such hatred for a child?"

"He is a Sith's little boy." Sally hissed. Greg took a small step forward, his brown eyes pierced through Sally's green. Dooku stepped between the knights menacingly.

"Your master would be so disappointed with you." Dooku said quietly.

"I think I shall survive." Greg hissed coldly. He watched his bedroom door closely. He could not sense anything bad happening, but Sherlock was still scared.

"He will never be your learner." Sally said violently.

"I wasn't aware you could see into the future, Donavan."

Dooku sighed heavily and placed his hand on Greg's strong shoulder. The pressure was unwelcomingly tight. "Is this rebellion against your master, child?"

"I am hardly a child, Master." Greg exhaled heavily. He ran his fingers through his silver hair, his eyes wondered back to the door that hid the child. "And rebellion is not the Jedi way. I genuinely worry for the kid. He's only a little boy really."

"You must understand why he cannot stay with you." Dooku insisted.

"I understand why you feel I should not keep him, but I cannot see a true reason why." The knight steeled his voice. His bedroom door reopened itself and Yoda tottered out, followed closely by a chained Sherlock. Greg nearly vomited at the sight. "Sherlock?" The knight was struck dumb with hurt.

How could Master Yoda chain a frightened child?

Sherlock visibly trembled and would not meet the young knight's eyes. He took a few seconds to compose himself before forcing his gaze upward. His lower lip trembled. "Don't be stupid." The boy muttered through clenched teeth. "You knew it wouldn't work. I'm a Sith, remember? You're a Jedi. Even if I wanted to I couldn't change to the light." Sherlock was crying miserably.

Greg knelt in front of the little boy. "Sherlock, look at me. You can change to the light, you are not dark. You are no Sith, there isn't dark in your heart. You were lonely, not dark." Greg caught the child's chin. "I could feel it, you were lonely." He had never been so sure of anything. The boy was alone, alone and frightened. He held the child's chin firmly.

Sherlock's small hands took Greg's, they boy held on to him tightly. "May I keep your robe, Master? Please?" The child was shivering in anticipation of his cold cell. Greg nodded as though there were a knife in his heart. Sherlock sniffled as he passed over his reed pipes to the young knight. The only item he had ever owned.

Lestrade did not raise from knees as Sherlock was lead out. He doubled over, grabbing his stomach as the door slide shut. He desperately wanted to chase the boy down and bring him home.

He whipped around as the door reopened. Qui Gon stood in the door way, his frown lines were prominent across his brow. The tall knight rested his hands on his hip, Lestrade rose from his knees.

"Greg-"

"Don't, Qui. Don't tell me he is a kriffing Sith, don't tell me I am wrong." Lestrade hissed. Qui Gon's grey eyes narrowed.

"I was going to tell you to calm yourself." Qui Gon grabbed Greg's shoulders and shook the younger man. "Master Yoda is aware of the child's behavior, he is aware of the lack of darkness in his heart." Qui Gon's words became soft.

"Then why must they torture him with such fear? He is only a boy. A kid."

"A Jedi." Qui Gon reassured him. "A strong Jedi."

"A little boy. A frightened ten year old in a cold cell." Greg said bitterly.

"It is a test. One both of you will have to endure."

"I will not let him sit in the cell alone." Greg shoved pass the older man, but was stopped by a strong grip on his arm. Qui Gon squeezed his friend's bicep tightly.

"Greggy, you cannot go to him. It is a test the council must conduct."

"Let go of me, Qui Gon Jinn."

"Greg, I will hold you down all night if I have to. They will release him as soon as he proves to be pure."

"Released to me. He will be my padawan." Greg pulled his arm from the vice grip.

"If you stay here for the night."

"And Sherlock will remain alone and feeling abandoned. Let me go to him." Greg pleaded.

"I will stay with you the night." Qui Gon sat in a rocking chair with his hands perched under his chin. "You may kneel at my feet if you feel necessary." The older man teased.

"This hardly the time for jokes, Qui."

"Forgive me."

oOo

Sherlock pulled Mr. Lestrade's cloak tighter around him.

He knew it had been too good to be true. Sherlock was a Sith, they didn't have happy endings. At least Mr. Lestrade was safe, Sherlock curled tighter in a ball. His binders hurt his broken wrist, the boy whimpered.

The guard had snickered at him from outside the cell. Sherlock wanted to throw something at the older boy, but kept silent. He didn't want to anger the Jedi and cause them to hurt Mr. Lestrade.

Sherlock trembled.

Tomorrow they would surely execute him.

oOo

Qui Gon had to pin him against a wall.

Greg struggled beneath the larger man as they told Sherlock he was to be killed. Qui Gon covered his mouth as the younger knight began to speak. Greg was very successfully immobile against the marble wall of the council's meeting area. But he managed to break two of his friend's fingers on the way to being pinned.

_He's scared!_ Greg blasted through Qui Gon's mind shields.

_Be still._

_Damn you!_

He watched Sherlock kneel bravely at Yoda's feet and renewed his struggles. He silently pleaded with Qui Gon to release him, but the older knight gave him nothing. Greg forced himself to relax, Qui Gon's grip slackened as he felt the younger man yield. Greg managed to free his arms from his friend's loosened grip. He stomped on the taller man's foot as he stalked pass.

Yoda announced the child would have a master of the light side.

Sherlock's dark head shot up quickly at the words. Greg's heart nearly broke at the doubtful look in the boy's face. Sherlock asked the grandmaster if he was being truthful.

"Doubt me, you do?"

Sherlock shook his head fiercely. The boy claimed it was an honor he didn't deserve.

Sally agreed with him.

Sherlock's shoulders slumped forward in guilty submission, his played with his fingertips nervously. Greg felt a lump grow in his throat as he laid a warm palm on Sherlock's scrawny shoulder, to his great surprise Sherlock nuzzled him. He shot Sally a nasty look.

"You are mine now, Curly. And you owe me laps for going back to your cell and not informing me of your choices."

The child nodded, tears flowing faster. "Yes, Master."

Yoda informed the boy he would still be questioned about his former master. Sherlock let out a strangled "yes". Lestrade massaged the back of the child's neck as the council was dismissed.

Qui Gon informed his fellow knight that he had every intention of being his sparring partner for the next few weeks. Greg grinned in anticipation. "Of course, Master Jinn. Do say hello to Molly for me when you go to the healer's bay."

Qui Gon scowled.

Greg grinned triumphantly as the taller knight strode away with a dramatic swish of his cloak. He made to look down at his new apprentice when the boy launched himself into Greg's arms. "Oh, Sherlock." He muttered softly.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." The boy was inconsolable. Greg stroked through the black curls softly, Sherlock leaned into his palm affectionately. Greg pulled the child against his shoulder tightly.

"Master, there are others. Other children I mean, younger than me. The proper training age for Jedi. If I give The Order their location can they save them too? My friend Rica, she's only eight." The new padawan babbled.

"I will petition for it immediately, Curly." He ran his fingers around the little boy's ear and rubbed it between his thumb and index finger. Sherlock nuzzled the hand affectionately.

"Master, why am I allowed to be a Jedi? Aren't I too old?" Sherlock hiccupped.

"Sherlock you have already been trained in the art of the Force, now with proper guidance you will make a great Jedi." Greg knelt in front of Sherlock slowly and caught his chin. "And I am honored that you find me interesting enough to be your master."

Sherlock nodded. "Barely."

"Brat."

"Yes, Master."

oOo

Sherlock was so floored by the idea of sleeping in an actual bed it broke Greg's heart.

The boy examined every part of the spare bed thoroughly. He sat on it, lay on it, bounced a bit, Greg smiled as Sherlock began to sniff the corners experimentally. The boy's smile grew. "There's no feces or anything on here." He threw himself back onto the bed happily.

Greg grimaced. "Course there isn't. It's a bed, Sherlock. Not a toilet."

"Well how would I know?" Sherlock asked innocently. He burrowed himself under the covers and wiggled his toes. He was dressed in an old tunic of Greg's that was far too big, but perfect for pajamas. The boy insisted he try Greg's bed to see if it contained the same warmth under each covers. Sherlock laid his dark head on Greg's pillows. "Yours is squishier!"

"Curly." The elder chuckled. "Yours is new, it will learn to form around you."

Sherlock's eyes widened. He darted back to his room and began taking measurements of the dent in the mattress. Greg heaved the boy onto the bed and plopped him in the middle.

"Sleep." He commanded firmly.

"Not tired." The protest was followed with a yawn. Greg quirked an eyebrow.

Sherlock smiled slightly, he glanced down at his bandaged bare feet thoughtfully. He again wiggled his toes slightly. "I have never slept in a bed before." He said nervously.

"As a baby you…" Greg tried lightly.

"No. I slept with my mother. Bastards don't get beds." Sherlock said with no emotion. He looked at Greg almost pleadingly and the tall knight understood instantly.

"Well since you are a rookie," the Jedi plucked the child off the new bed and carried him into the other room, "why don't you stay with me tonight?"

"Only tonight." Sherlock said firmly. "I'm not a child.

"I know." Greg stroked the boy's hair gently. He threw his new padawan onto the bed carefully, delighting in Sherlock's soft giggling. The knight laid down beside the little boy and felt the soft head lay on his bicep. Sherlock smelt of soap and clean water. He had been absolutely enthralled at having a bath.

Sherlock curled into Lestrade's side and yawned. "It's warm."

"Good?"

"Very."

The Jedi observed the small boy, who began falling asleep on his new master's arm.

The child had never slept in a bed before?

He stroked Sherlock's dark curls softly, the boy's eyelids fluttered and fell. He gently prodded the child's mind, Sherlock immediately tightened his mind shields, Greg withdrew swiftly. Sherlock's nose scrunched, but he remained sleeping.

Greg let out a soft sigh and pulled the boy closer to him. "Oh Sherlock." He muttered. He didn't understand how anyone could harm a child, let alone Sherlock. The boy grimaced as he lay on his back, he corrected it by rolling back onto his side. Greg's heart was softened.

Sherlock's mouth opened as he at last allowed himself to relax. His master's arms tightened around him.

Greg frowned as he realized Sherlock was a child who would rarely let himself be held again.


	3. Chapter 3

"Did you finally find some to take you in, Sherlock dear?"

Sherlock froze as his owner appeared from the shadows. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he knelt at the Sith's feet. "I-I'm sorry, Master. I was captured during the battle."

"Then you meant to return to me?" The Sith asked almost angrily. Sherlock cringed at the heated tone of Moriarty's voice.

The boy hesitated. "I didn't run away, Master. I swear."

"Then you shall return to me."

The cold began dragging him down. "The Jedi, he won't…"

"Then kill him."

Sherlock felt the shadows coil around him, he struggled to breathe. "But I-I…Master!"

Sherlock woke up silently screaming, Lestrade was gone from the room. The boy sprang from the comforting bed as though it were on fire. The understanding that he may never have a bed again washed over him, the boy gingerly played with the corner of the covers. It had been so soft.

Lestrade opened the door to the room with a bright grin. "Hey, kiddo."

"Hello, Mr. Lestrade." Sherlock said quietly. The knight gave him a questioning look, Sherlock bit his lip. He wished the friendly eyes would look away, but they held their gaze.

"You alright there, Curly?"

"A nightmare, Master." Sherlock nudged the bed with his barefoot. Lestrade motioned for the boy to follow him into the meditation area, Sherlock obeyed heavy heartedly. Lestrade knelt on the mat and sat back on his hunches, the little boy followed suit. The knight smiled encouragingly.

"Have you ever done a tea ceremony before, Sherlock?"

"No, Master. I have never drank anything other than water." Sherlock said mildly.

Lestrade motioned to a small kettle and two tea bowls. "Two Jedi, usually master and student, wake every morning they are joined by their bond and have tea. It is a very, very old tradition, but it has been one of my favorites since I was your age."

"I thought…" Sherlock's voice trailed off.

"Yes?" Lestrade was incredibly patient.

"I thought you didn't like you master." The boy flinched once the words were free from his mouth.

"What gave you that impression?" Lestrade sounded amused, not at all angry.

"Just that you have medical training, good medical training not just basic, and your still a field Jedi. It wouldn't have been your choice to put in so much effort into one thing and not follow it. Also you don't really respect a lot of authority figures, probably because yours over used his power. But you're also kind to people who have been trod on, which means you're sympathetic because you've been in the same spot."

Sherlock sucked in a deep breath.

Lestrade was grinning at the boy so whole heartedly Sherlock couldn't help but blush.

"We are not bonded, Master. Doesn't that render the tea ceremony invalid?"

"The ceremony will not be performed today, Curly. But we will take morning tea together, if that is acceptable."

"Of course, Master." Sherlock was nervous about the taste of tea. Would it be a great insult to the man who had taken him in if he didn't like it?

Then again he was planning to return to his Sith master.

Sherlock's stomach clenched.

"Your nightmare still haunts you." Lestrade passed the boy a filled tea bowl.

"Yes." Sherlock said simply.

"Drink." Lestrade said, knowing he couldn't make the child speak. Sherlock licked his lips nervously, before tipping the contents back into his mouth. Warm, sweet liquid swept over his tongue in a loving caresses. Sherlock chugged it down greedily.

"Curly." Lestrade chuckled. "Slowly. Drink it slowly. Jedi do not gobble."

"It's good." Sherlock said with surprise. "It's very good, Master."

Lestrade nodded his thanks and sipped his own tea leisurely, his brown eyes never left the face of his new padawan. Sherlock cringed and placed his empty tea bowl down. Lestrade set his own aside.

"Are you hungry, Sherlock?" Lestrade's voice was gentle.

"I could eat." The boy squeaked.

Lestrade made him a semi-large breakfast, which the boy ate fervently. He had never had such good food in his life, let alone warm food. Lestrade watched the boy eat as though he would never eat again. The knight frowned.

"I have a meeting to attend today, young one. Will you be alight in here alone?"

"Yes, Master." Sherlock mumbled. Lestrade passed him a small comm link.

"If you need me, you call." He placed a gentle hand on the side of the boy's head as he rose. Sherlock only nodded. Lestrade walked through the door quickly his cloak swishing around the corner before Sherlock realized he hadn't bowed as his master had exited. The boy ran from the table and through door. He reached for Lestrade's sleeve and tugged fiercely, the knight turned curiously. "Miss me already?"

"I didn't…I mean…I'm so sorry, Mr. Lestrade." Sherlock bowed awkwardly and waited for the impending blows. He was shocked when his master knelt in front of him and took his shoulders.

"What in blazes are you talking about, Curly?"

"I-I didn't bow to you when you left, Master." Sherlock flinched as Lestrade's fingers tightened.

"Stars, little one, it is alright. You are still learning the Jedi ways. I do not fault you." Lestrade said softly. Sherlock's eyes widened in shock. "It is alright, Sherlock. Go back inside, okay? Eat your fill, I'll be back." The knight stroked a soft hand through Sherlock's dark curls and rose gracefully. He gave a small bow, followed by a small wink. Sherlock returned the bow swiftly.

When Lestrade had gone Sherlock glanced his bare feet where the oversized tunic fluttered around his ankles. He didn't want to leave. His new master was kind and soft. Moriarty would have beat him senseless for forgetting to bow.

Sherlock knew he had to get to the hangar bay and find a ship to take him back to Moriarty. If he stayed his Sith owner would no doubt hurt Lestrade in time. Sherlock turned to change, Moriarty wouldn't be pleased if he showed up dressed as a Jedi.

oOo

Greg wasn't stupid.

He followed Sherlock closely, he had sensed the nightmare in the other room. Sherlock was so afraid of Moriarty punishing him the boy had begged for forgiveness in his sleep. He watched Sherlock climb into a Y-wing, the boy was dressed back in his Sith uniform. Greg noticed that Sherlock had kept the long Jedi robe.

Greg clambered up on the passenger silently. Sherlock was pressing buttons that booted up the ships navigation system. He pulled himself into the co-pilots seat, Sherlock's eyes widened to the sizes of holo-orbs.

"I-I…Master I'm…" The boy was terrified.

"Sherlock, I think we should talk."

"Yes, Master."

oOo

Sherlock found a sack and filled it with food.

He ran through the temple towards the direction he thought the hangar bay would be. He could hear ships coming and going and found a Y-wing suitable enough to take him to his master's planet.

He glared at the controls as if he could make them do as he wanted with will alone. He pushed his dark curls from his eyes and began pressing buttons. The co-pilots door opened and Lestrade slid in. Sherlock gasped.

Lestrade would know of his padawan's betrayal. The knight would know that all of his hard work was for nothing, Sherlock was trembling. Lestrade would hate him now, even if Sherlock had wanted to go back Lestrade would never take him back.

Lestrade glanced at Sherlock with a tender gaze. "Sherlock, I think we should talk."

Sherlock covered his face and braced for a beating. "Yes, Master."

"Curly, what are you planning?" Lestrade's voice was quiet.

"I need to go back, Master." Sherlock said in a small voice. "He said…Moriarty, my master…"

Lestrade reached from his seat, resulting in a flinch from Sherlock. Lestrade rested his hand on the child's knee softly. Sherlock had steadied himself for a whipping, Lestrade would take him back to his cell any second. The Jedi gave his knee a small squeeze.

"Curly one, he cannot find you here."

"I...can't believe that, Mr. Lestrade. He is the most powerful Sith that has ever lived." Sherlock wanted to hold Lestrade's fingers, but stilled himself. He wasn't a child. He was a Sith Lord.

"I see." The Jedi knight said softly. He reached for the under compartment of the ships haul and pulled out binders. Sherlock nodded understandingly, he held out his wrists to be chained.

Lestrade shook his head and pushed the child's hands down. "You are frightened the Sith will punish you for running away."

"Yes, sir."

"If you return with the Jedi who held you captive will it help you?" Lestrade asked seriously. Sherlock gave him a strange look.

"Master?"

"I do not want you to go back to the Sith, Sherlock. However, it is your decision, and I trust you to do what is right. If you decided to go back to the Sith I am coming with you, as your prisoner to lessen your punishment."

"You trust that by offering yourself I will not go back." Sherlock said dryly.

"No. I trust you to do what is best, Sherlock. Truly I do."

Lestrade sensed Sherlock apprehension. The boy doubted him, and so he allowed the child to chain his wrists without a fight. The boy needed proof of loyalty. Lestrade reached for his saber at his hip, Sherlock immediately flinched. Lestrade lay the hilt in Sherlock's lap. "Do you accept my surrender, Sherlock?"

The boy stared at him for only a second. "Why are you doing this?" The boy shouted at last. "I don't understand! There is no logical answer to your actions, you hardly know me!"

"I trust you, Sherlock." Lestrade's eyes were blazing.

"But why, Mr. Lestrade?" Sherlock cried softly. "You shouldn't. You shouldn't, Master."

Lestrade reached for Sherlock's head slowly and pressed his thumb in the center of the child's forehead. His hands were hindered by the cuffs, but he simply pressed his left hand to the side of his padawan's head. Sherlock unconsciously reached for the spot over his master's heart.

"Sherlock, from now on we are one, so long as you accept it. Two bound in the Force, obedience, and trust. You shall learn from me and I from you. Is that accepted?"

"Yes, Master." Sherlock said in awe. The Force bound both men together tightly, Sherlock gasped as his mind touched Lestrade's and as Lestrade's heart caressed his. Sherlock leaned into Lestrade's chest, his cheek pressed against the strong peck muscles.

"I knew we were meant to be master and student, Curly. And I will not let you out of my sight. You will be protected."

They sat in silence for only a second. Sherlock managed to locate the key and unlocked his master's wrists. He sniffled as Lestrade rubbed the back of his neck tenderly. "I'm sorry, Master. I want to stay with you, truly. But Moriarty will find me and possibly hurt you. I can't…"

"I will protect you." Lestrade said soothingly. "And I can defend myself, young one."

"I…" Sherlock felt lost. He struggled to grasp the idea of blind trust, he flailed in the dark at the idea of someone protecting him. Lestrade leaned his forehead against the child's.

"It is your decision." Lestrade said softly.

"You. I want to stay with you, Master. But I…"

"Then you will stay with me." Lestrade said firmly. Sherlock shook his head.

"You don't understand. I have to go back. Eventually."

"No you don't, kid."

"Mas-"

"Sherlock, I have proven I trust you. Do you trust me?"

"Yes, Master." Sherlock said fiercely.

"Then come here." Lestrade pulled Sherlock from the pilot seat and into his arms. Sherlock wiggled uncomfortable, but eventually let the older man hold him. Lestrade carried him down from ship. Sherlock squirmed to be let go when they reached the ground to which Lestrade obeyed. Sherlock walked steadily behind him on the way back to their quarters.

The boy didn't even bother to go back into his own room, he threw himself into Lestrade's bed. The knight followed him in shortly after. He pulled the covers around Sherlock's slender body and ruffled the dark hair affectionately. "You will sleep for about a day, Sherlock."

"Because of the bond?" The boy yawned.

"Yes." Lestrade made sure the child was warm enough before flicking the lights off. Sherlock curled tighter in the blankets.

"Will you be back, Master?"

"I have some things left to do today, young one. But you should rest." Lestrade prompted. Sherlock nodded against the pillow and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Soft." The child said with pleasure.

"Safe." Lestrade murmured. "Always safe."

The knight went back into the living space of his quarters as his comm link buzzed in his pocket. He clicked it nervously.

"He wants to see you."

"Tell him I've already bonded with the boy so it's no use…"

"Greg."

"Qui."

"He still wants to speak to you."

Lestrade sighed heavily. "I'll be there shortly."


	4. Chapter 4

"But it wasn't there yesterday."

"Curly."

"Master."

Both Jedi glared at each other from across the mediation mats, Lestrade nursed his tea bowl. "Traditionally there is silence at morning tea."

"Master, you have a black eye." Sherlock snapped.

"Observant as ever, I see." Lestrade chuckled. Sherlock fixed him with an angry gaze that was interrupted by Lestrade's Force shove. Sherlock tumbled backwards gracelessly. "Feeling clumsy today, my young padawan."

"Feeling mistrusted, Master." Sherlock replied sharply. He pulled himself to his knees and repositioned the meditation mat. Lestrade raised his eyebrows.

"I was in a sparring bout with my old master. The old badger slipped a heavy punch under my guard. I simply did not want to be little you with such a boring tale." Lestrade said easily.

"It wasn't…" Sherlock said softly. He waited for Lestrade's patience to wear thin and break, but the elder merely smiled.

"You cannot deduce me a liar, Sherlock, because I have not lied to you." Ever the voice of reason, Lestrade winked quickly.

The little boy took in the black eye deeply, he rose without permission and gently prodded it with his finger. Lestrade frowned. "Believe it or not, Curly, that hurts me."

Sherlock gave no apology, his finger gave a smaller sharper poke and Lestrade threw the boy over his shoulder. He twirled the boy around lightheartedly. Sherlock squeaked with panic. He instinctively went limp in the elder's arms until he was set down.

"Don't do that again, please." Sherlock said with a terrified expression. "I'm sorry, Master. I-I…"

"Sherlock, I was playing…" Lestrade was at once concerned. Sherlock looked down at his feet, he knew normal boys would have probably delighted in play.

"Oh." The boy's heart was still in his chest, Moriarty had thrown the child over his shoulder whenever he was being naughty. It was the best way to contain a struggling padawan. Lestrade leaned forward slightly, Sherlock flinched away. "I don't like play very much, Master."

Lestrade put a careful hand on the boy's shoulder. Sherlock looked into the friendly brown eyes and mentally kicked himself. Of course Lestrade would never hurt him without cause. Sherlock knew Lestrade would only beat him when it was necessary, but still the boy wavered.

"Okay, Sherlock." He said gently. "Okay, no more play."

Sherlock thanked him softly, Lestrade kept his hand on the boy's shoulder until the child looked at him. The tall knight smiled warmly. Sherlock unconsciously leaned into his master's strong leg, Lestrade said nothing.

"Perhaps we should start our lessons for the day."

"Yes."

Lestrade sat Sherlock at kitchen counter with a small glass of nectar to apologize and a datapad. Sherlock's eyes grew wide at all the information set before him. He immediately began thumbing through the history of the light side.

Lestrade watched him thoughtfully.

The door to their peaceful quarters slid open, revealing a frowning Qui Gon Jinn. The tall knight stroked his beard thoughtfully. Lestrade went to him almost unwillingly, Sherlock kept his dark head bent over his lessons, but listened intently towards the conversation.

"I told him no." Lestrade said sharply.

"I understand, Greg. He says he only wishes it meet the boy…"

"And you were foolish enough to believe him."

"Your former master has a right to demand to see your padawan. I was forced into showing Dooku Xanatos."

"I do not want Sherlock exposed to him. It will not go well." Lestrade touched his blackened eye sorely. The nasty bruise was starting to green at the edges.

"You spoke to him last night then?"

"Yes. I refused to let him see my apprentice. He was quite irate."

"Did he hit you?" Sherlock interjected horrified. "Did your master hit you?"

"Sherlock." Lestrade said, for the first time sternly.

"Bloody knew it." The child murmured into his lessons. "You lied."

"We will discuss this later." Lestrade said firmly.

"We will discuss it later or you will continue to lie later?" Sherlock found his courage. He noticed the tall Jedi smiling behind his master, the stranger punched Lestrade lightly in the arm. Humor light his eyes.

"Your room. Now." Lestrade commanded.

Sherlock looked down at the table, not in shame, but in fear of being whipped. "May I take my datapad?" He muttered.

"Yes."

"And my nectar?"

"Yes. Be careful not to spill."

Sherlock prayed Lestrade did not notice his hand shaking terribly as he reached for his cup. The Force was not with him because Lestrade dismissed Master Jinn swiftly and strode to his padawan. Sherlock braced for a slap.

"I didn't lie to you." The knight said softly.

"You didn't tell the truth!" The boy said angrily.

"Jedi do not lie."

"But…"

"I didn't want to frighten you, curly one. You jump at your shadow if its fist is raised. You are safe here, I want you to feel safe here. It was truly a sparring match in which I was hit, but I was slightly handicapped for the exercise." Lestrade sat at Sherlock's side.

"Slightly?"

"Handcuffed. You'll learn such defensives as time goes by."

Sherlock played with the rim of his glass silently. He closed his fingers around the cup and sipped it. "They were Force inhibitors." The boy said softly.

"Yes, young one."

Sherlock swallowed the lump forming his throat. "You were hit because you are my master, and I am wicked."

Lestrade took the cup from Sherlock's hand and rested it lazily on the boy's head. Sherlock smiled slightly as it balanced. "No. I was hit because people are close minded and arrogant. They do not understand things they disagree with."

Sherlock touched the other half of their bond experimentally, Lestrade respond with soothing waves that made Sherlock relax instantly.

"Shall we learn more about the saber today?"

Sherlock nodded enthusiastically, spilling the nectar. Both Jedi giggled.

"Good man, Curly."

oOo

"You're giving it a saber!"

Sherlock put his master between himself and the hateful woman Jedi. He held the pieces to his training saber in his arms, the hilt, the crystals, the activation buttons, different gears, Greg had promised to teach his padawan how to build a fully functioning saber after a week of using the temple's barely functioning temporaries. The elder bristled.

"I am teaching him to build his first saber, yes." It was the first time he had ever gotten angry in front of Sherlock, and the boy clearly did not approve. The child did not waver, but across their bond Sherlock nudged him gently.

_Don't be mad_.

Sally glared at the child so angrily even Greg took a step back. "What has the boy ever done to you, Sally?"

"You have never been on the other end of his "gift", Gregory Lestrade. And the moment you are…" Sally took a step towards the child, but Greg caught her arm warningly.

"I will protect him until my dying breath." Greg said coldly. "Do not take a threatening step towards him and expect to get pass me."

He turned away from his former friend and guided Sherlock to a working station. Traditionally there was a droid to teach younglings how to build sabers. Lestrade forgot the stupid things name, but it had been around since he was a boy. He didn't want to leave Sherlock at the mercy of the barely wired correctly robot.

They knelt across from each other over a small table in the middle of the work area. Sherlock laid all his piece across the table and glanced skeptically. "Are you sure I'm allowed, Master?"

"Course you are. You're not a prisoner, kid." Greg kicked himself for letting Sally near the child, Sherlock's self-esteem was low enough without others bashing it further into the ground.

Sherlock nodded numbly before clicking the pieces together for his saber. Greg watched in awe as a little boy with no previous light saber training put together a fully functioning saber in less than five minutes. Greg let out a hearty chuckle. "Sherlock! Where did you learn to do that?"

"It's obvious, Master." Sherlock said easily. He flushed slightly at his master's proud gaze. "The pieces only fit in certain areas. Only an idiot would try putting them in the wrong spots."

Greg forgot himself and playfully swatted Sherlock on the head. The boy managed not to flinch, but did have a look of pure alarm cross his face. Swiftly Sherlock composed himself swiftly and punched Greg in arm.

Slightly hard.

Greg experimentally gave the boy a small shove. Sherlock dodged and punched at the elder's chest. The knight caught the small fist and flicked the boy in the head. To his delight Sherlock started giggling. They left their play at that. Greg was just proud that the boy had begun responding positively to being a normal child.

Sherlock was shown how to clip the saber to his traditional Jedi dress. Sherlock practiced withdrawing the saber swiftly, Lestrade taught him how to use the Force to have it out and activated without losing a leg. Sherlock was a very fast, very serious learner.

They stopped as soon as Sherlock's stomach growled.

Lestrade surprised the boy with a small sandwich, Sherlock stared at him thoughtfully. "You want to make me fatter."

"I want you to be a healthy weight." The elder prompted.

"Fat." Sherlock smirked into his sandwich.

"Curly."

oOo

They ate in silence for a time before Lestrade decided it was time to return for written lessons. Sherlock followed him closely, the boy could hardly keep up with Lestrade's stronger stride. The elder giggled.

"Whatcha doing down there, Curly?"

Sherlock shot him a scowl. "Trying to keep up." He mumbled angrily, it was hardly fair Lestrade mock him.

"Come here then." Lestrade laughed as he steered the boy in front of him. "Now you walk and I'll keep up with you, alright?"

Sherlock looked completely caught off guard. "I'm supposed to walk behind you. It's a sign of respect and…"

"Kid, just walk." Lestrade grinned mischievously. "I have to respect you too for this relationship to work. Think of it as my way of saying so." He prodded the boy gently with the back of his boot. "'Course it's also a lot easier for me to pick on ya from back here."

Lestrade had been easing the boy into a normal routine of playing and picking on each other. Sherlock seemed slightly more open to being a child at certain times, mostly when they were alone. The boy otherwise remained serious and withdrawn.

Sherlock claimed he was too old to be picked on and was immediately teased harder. Lestrade pulled the boy into a very light headlock, Sherlock tensed, but resolved the matter by pinching his master in the arm. Lestrade hissed.

"Below the belt, Curly."

Sherlock grinned at his elder until a dark shadow passed over the smiling pair. The white haired man from the battle field stood centimeters away from Sherlock. The boy choked on his own bile and darted behind Lestrade. There was an older ginger boy standing behind the Jedi master.

Lestrade tugged Sherlock's ear patiently.

"Lestrade." The white haired man said lowly. Lestrade quirked an eyebrow and reached a hand to comfort his padawan. Sharp teeth left a small wound on the palm, Sherlock blushed at his instincts. His master ignored the grievance and carded his hand through the soft curls. "I am merely checking on your week's progress with the boy. And making sure you wish to remain with him."

Sherlock's heart seized, Lestrade merely shrugged. "Well we've bonded, so no choice really."

Lestrade didn't notice Sherlock peeking hopefully at the older boy, looking for a friend. He caught the ginger boy's angry glare and felt Sherlock's hand curl into his pant leg. Lestrade felt sadness through the other end of the child's bond. Sherlock asked to be excused.

Lestrade knelt before his padawan. "What is it, Sherlock?"

"The ginger kid hates me, and the white haired man is going to become a Sith lord someday." The boy said as if it were obvious. "And I'm hungry."

Dooku moved so swiftly Lestrade could barely catch his hand. Sherlock's eyes had widened in fear, and the nature of a paternal figure crept into Lestrade's chest. He gripped the old wrist tightly.

"How dare he?" The master hissed.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You're awful quick to anger for a regular Jedi. Plus you're clearly power crazy, look at the way your padawan walks, and you've taught him to judge others."

Lestrade threw Sherlock a livid look, the boy cowered.

No, no, Lestrade shouldn't be mad at him. He had done nothing wrong.

"You wretched little…" Dooku pulled against Lestrade's grasp, but the younger held firm.

"He is mine to discipline, not yours." The knight said forcefully. He shoved Dooku back and stood firmly between him and his padawan.

"See that he is punished." The white haired man snarled.

"Come on, kid."

Sherlock let himself be steered towards the bedroom, he focused on not trembling beneath his master's strong fingers. Lestrade opened the door to their quarters, and Sherlock leapt away fearfully. "You asked me what was wrong! You can't get mad at me for answering a question."

Was this it? Lestrade surely had no choice but to beat obedience into the boy. Sherlock hadn't even made it a week before his new master had to punish him. Lestrade sighed heavily.

"Sherlock learn to think, would you? There is a time and a place for such accusations." Lestrade sat on the couch tiredly, his good mood gone. "Next time you believe someone will be a Sith tell me we'll discuss it later, alright?"

"I…" Sherlock silently begged Lestrade not beat him, or at least not to whip him.

"Go to our room, wait for me." When the boy hesitated, Lestrade spoke more firmly. "Go."

Sherlock scampered into the room.

The first thing he did was room his shirt gingerly, there were still open cuts and several large bruises that pained him, Force he hoped Lestrade would be somewhat easy with him. He neatly folded his shirt, then decided he didn't care and tossed it away angrily. He had let Mr. Lestrade down.

Already.

Sherlock sat on the soft bed, the bed of warmth and placed his hands behind his back.

Lestrade came in shortly after.

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock turned slowly, Lestrade had his belt held in tightly in his hand.

A whipping then.

Sherlock slunk off the bed slowly with a small nod. He knelt at his master's feet. 'S okay, Master. I understand. You're kinder than Moriarty was, so I accept your punishment. I won't run away." He placed his palms on the ground, signaling he was ready for the lashes. He forced the feeling of unfairness that rose in his throat. Or maybe it was the bile. "But you did ask what was wrong, so not too many, okay?"

Lestrade made an odd strangle noise that nearly caused Sherlock to turn. There was a soft, warm palm that spread over the boy's back. Sherlock cringed. Lestrade had only semi-seen his back, usually it had been covered by the robe.

"My God, Sherlock." Lestrade sounded oddly close to tears for a man about to punish someone. "What have they done to you?" Sherlock turned to look at him slowly. Lestrade reached forward slowly and cupped his cheek. "I was putting this away, kid. I could never hit you, understand?" Lestrade chucked the belt away from him with all his might. Sherlock whimpered.

"I was bad…kinda."

"There was a misunderstanding, Sherlock." Lestrade stroked his back slowly, avoiding the open cuts and bruises. "You were not bad."

Sherlock gaped at him. "I'm sorry, Master… I was looking at the norm for Siths, beginner's mistake…"

"Come here." Lestrade commanded. Sherlock half crawled and was half pulled into strong arms. The child buried his face in the large bicep. "Is there more?"

Sherlock squeezed his little eyes shut and twisted his face against the man's chest. "I don't want to…"

"Where?" Lestrade rubbed the base of his neck soothingly. "Please, tell me."

"Legs." Sherlock nearly screamed as the elder went for his pants. The boy shoved away from him. "You mustn't look!"

Lestrade had never felt such pain in his life, he allowed tears to fall from his eyes. The Jedi motioned for Sherlock to come back to him. The child refused him for only a second. "Do you trust me?" His master voice didn't waver with his tears.

"Yes." Sherlock said without thinking.

"Please, Sherlock. Let me see."

"No! Please, Master! You'll have to take me back to him if you look! That's what always happened if I ran away. Healers saw m-my…" The child looked away. Whenever he escaped someone always took him into a doctor. It was how they found out, it was how Moriarty always got him back. He couldn't bare for Lestrade to know he was a…a…

Lestrade stood over him and pulled him into a tight hug. "Shhh."

Sherlock sobbed. "Don't look, please."

There was the softest of tugs and Sherlock's pants rested around his ankles. His master gave the smallest of sobs. He must have seen the Sith's crest burned into his thigh. The day he had received it, it had been nearly unbearable. It wasn't burned into his leg with fire, it was burned in with Force ice. So long as Sherlock belonged to Moriarty it would never fade, if his papers would transfer it would switch to that owners brand. Sherlock sniffled uncontrollably.

"You won't take me back." He muttered. "Promise me, you won't."

There was a law, if Lestrade did not take him back than he had illegally stolen Sith property. On the right planets Lestrade could be made a slave himself.

"Sherlock…"

"The words, Master. Please."

"I will never, ever take you back to that sick man. I promise you."

Sherlock felt his pants being pulled back up. He rested his head against Lestrade's shoulder. "Thank you." He muttered. Lestrade held him closely.

"You need a healer, Sherlock. I didn't realize how bad your back…"

"No! No, Master! No, I can't!" Sherlock struggled against the hug viscously. Lestrade clutched him to his chest tightly, the boy hit him repeatedly in the upper body. The older man released him.

Sherlock flung himself at Lestrade's feet swifter than thought. "Master, please. I-I can't do it." The boy's voice broke. The healers were worse than the torture. He pressed his forehead to Lestrade's boot. "Please. Please, Mr. Lestrade."

Lestrade swept the trembling boy off the floor and onto the bed. Sherlock clung to his neck desperately as the knight lay at the child next time him and held him close. "Okay, okay. Shhh shh sh. No healer, no healer. It's okay, Sherlock. It's okay."

Sherlock sobbed for all he was worth against the sturdy chest.

"It's alright, Curly."

Sherlock's sobbed changed into soft sniffles that tickled the elder's neck. Lestrade, ran a soft, soothing hand over the boy's neck, face, and back. Sherlock calmed under the practice hand.

"I am sorry I hit you, Master."

"Quite alright." Lestrade said calmly. "You were forgiven the moment the deed was over."

Sherlock sighed against the strong neck. They were silent for a second.

"Could I…?"

Lestrade didn't make Sherlock finish his sentence, he merely nodded his constant.

Of course the boy could spend the night.

oOo

A week later Lestrade brought Sherlock to a meeting with the Naboo senator Palpatine.

Sherlock gave a small gasp the moment he saw the white haired man enter the room. Lestrade frowned. "What is it, Curly?"

"We can discuss it later, Master."


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock sat at the table silently.

His feet dangled under his chair as the serious boy studied his lessons. He sat with no shirt and a back covered in bacta ointment, per Lestrade's instructions. Sherlock took detailed notes and meditated on the memories of his Sith teachings. He stopped his master as the elder headed towards the door.

"Master, their histories conflict," Sherlock said earnestly. The boy's gaze flickered over his master's outfit, training clothes, old, worn, no saber at his hip. Sherlock pouted heavily. "You are going to spar your master again."

It was no question.

"Yes, Sherlock," Lestrade answered anyway.

"I'm coming too," the boy stated at once. He slid off his stool and strode over to his master's side. Lestrade narrowed his eyes, but his padawan shrugged. "You say I should observe the best, Master. Clearly this man has a mastery of saber technics if he can beat an unarmed, bound man."

"Behave yourself, Sherlock." Lestrade said fondly. He ruffled the boy's hair affectionately, a sharp snort was his apprentice's response. "I do not want you and my master crossing paths."

"Why?" Sherlock peered up at his master with no curiosity in his eyes.

"Does it matter why?" Lestrade's voice became slightly stern.

"He'll stop hitting you," Sherlock said softly. The knowledge that his master endured abuse made small shivers run down the boy's thin figure. Silently he stared at his feet, willing the awful master to leave his teacher alone.

"It is an agreeable price to keep you away from him."

Sherlock puffed out his chest bravely. "I don't want that price to be paid any longer, Master. I can help you, just let him see me."

"Curly, not all Jedi are…." Lestrade struggled for the word. "Pure. Sometimes very mean men become masters. I don't want you to be reminded of _him._"

Sherlock glared up at Lestrade almost angrily. "Not a child."

"Yes, young one. You are."

Lestrade pressed a firm hand on the top of Sherlock's young head, ending the conversation. Sherlock squirmed under the firm pressure, his eyes dropped to the floor. "You'd be there." The child's voice was quiet. "You said I was safe with you."

Lestrade knelt before his padawan, the boy who was becoming like his son. His fingers attached themselves to the child's slim shoulders, brown eyes met icy blue. "You shall always be safe with me, kid. And that is why you must accept that you will never meet my master."

"I want you to be safe too." Sherlock stamped his foot determinedly. "It hurts when…"

"When the people who are supposed to take care of you don't, and you feel as though it is your fault because adults, teachers should always love their children. But for whatever reason yours doesn't and no matter what they continue to hurt you. And it isn't fair because…adults should protect children, any children." Lestrade cupped Sherlock's chin. The boy's expression told him the target had been hit spot on.

"Every day I see you, Curly, I become more proud of you than anyone. I will not put you through such pain again. Even if that means I must endure a little rough sparring."

"Tell the council," Sherlock pleaded.

"The council will…he is a great Jedi, Sherlock. They will slap his wrist, no more."

Sherlock frowned. "That isn't fair."

Lestrade released Sherlock's chin slowly. With a sad smile he bowed to his apprentice and went from the room. "You are to stay here, Curly. I shall be back within a few hours' time."

Sherlock, at the mercy of his own pride and his master's stubbornness threw himself between the elder and the door. "No."

"Sherlock Holmes," Lestrade said paternally. "Get out of the way."

"No. You're going to have to make me, and the only way you can do that is by scaring me."

Lestrade's eyes narrowed. "Don't you dare put that in front me, Sherlock. You know I would never harm you in any way."

"You subject yourself to a beating every other day and you do not think that hurts me?" Sherlock's voice grew higher with his rage. His eyes began watering fiercely. "You will not hurt yourself for me, Master."

They glared at each other furiously, Lestrade wanted to shake the boy. Sherlock's ice blue eyes squeezed shut as his master leaned forward. Lestrade studied the child, Sherlock was not one to show weakness unless absolutely called for. The elder sighed heavily. "I yield to you, my padawan."

Sherlock cracked an eye open, his master smiled at him encouragingly and the boy exhaled. "Truly, Master?"

"Yes, you cruel boy." Lestrade guided the child away from the door. His hand strayed to his comm link, Sherlock kept his eyes trained on his master warningly. The elder sighed. "Master," he spoke into his link unwillingly.

A gruff response came through the other side.

"I cannot attend our session today. I ask your forgiveness."

Sherlock strained to hear the reply, whatever it was his master flinched. The boy leaned his weight into his teacher's side. Lestrade leant back. Both Jedi tumbled onto the sofa, neither giggled.

"Yes, Master." Lestrade was solemn. "Must it be so presently, Master?"

Sherlock frowned, he was going to face Lestrade's master soon, too soon. The elder ran a hand through his silver hair. Sherlock had never before seen his mentor in such a mood.

Lestrade finished the call with a small, "Yes, Master."

Sherlock pressed his hand against Lestrade's strung bicep. The brown eyes look nervously to his padawan. "We have an hour, Curly."

"An hour?" Sherlock asked angrily. "He thinks he can just come at a moment's…"

"Sherlock, be still." Lestrade's voice was tired. "Be still and calm."

"You are frightened of him," Sherlock deduce softly.

"Only of…only of what he may say to you, kid. He was not happy when I took you in, he informed me I was to be disowned."

Sherlock swallowed at the words. If he was such a burden why did Lestrade insist on keeping him? Sherlock tugged at his master's sleeve until the friendly brown eyes meet his blue. "I'll be good," Sherlock said shortly. "I can be good if you need me to, Master."

Lestrade brushed off his padawan's promise. "You are always good for me, Curly."

"I am not afraid, Master," Sherlock swore. "You should not be either."

"I am not afraid, young one."

_Liar._

Sherlock wasn't sure whose half of the bond the thought came from.

oOo

Sherlock swore to himself that he would behave for his new master.

Just this once.

If they were not too dull.

He followed behind in Lestrade's shadow as closely as he could. The tall knight barely seemed to notice his padawan absent from his side, Sherlock swallowed as he mentally prepared himself to behave.

Lestrade had done much for him, it would be repaid.

The door to the lavish quarters opened, and Sherlock desperately wished he had paid better attention to his former master's instructions about proper behavior.

He breathed in deeply.

oOo

Greg sucked in a deep breath.

Sherlock was standing slightly off to his side, Greg felt a slight amount of fear in the young boy's mind. Greg vowed to protect Sherlock silently as they both entered. Sherlock gasped of course.

The knight was proud of the size of his quarters, not too big, not too small, a nice balcony overlooking the city. His master's was beyond measure, it was proudly decorated all in white, and there were several balconies. Little did Sherlock know the council had never visited his master home before. Clearly they would have charged him with vanity.

Greg glanced down at his padawan. "Don't get any ideas, kid. This kind of life style is…"

"Grand, extravagant, beyond your reach as a knight because it is a great reward," a deep voice finished for him. Sherlock barely swallowed his rage as he forced his back to bend to a stocky, balding man.

"Master." Greg bowed with his apprentice. Sherlock, however, did not rise with him. He waited for Lestrade to touch his back softly before coming back to attention. The child rested his hands behind his back and carefully averted his gaze.

_Sherlock?_

A wave of confusion came from the boy's half of the bond.

_Look at me please._

Sherlock obediently look towards Greg, the knight wanted to take his chin gently for a closer look, but his master spoke. "Is this the Sith then? Thought he'd be taller."

Sherlock stiffened, but remained silent.

"This is my padawan Sherlock Holmes. A young Jedi in the making." Greg took Sherlock's slender shoulders and guided him to stand before the observant master. The boy did not so much as tremble.

"Hello, sir," he said clearly, not giving the fat Jedi satisfaction of fear. Sherlock bowed.

"Polite, little bugger. You've put him on a tight leash, Lestrade. Good man."

Greg flinched. He touched Sherlock's half of the bond gently, the boy did not respond to his caress. Sherlock diverted his gaze to the floor, hiding his hate.

"Let us sit," the master said proudly.

"Yes, Master," Greg said darkly as he took a step towards the large couch in the center of the room. Sherlock waited for Greg to sit before kneeling on the floor by his feet. The Jedi master nodded approvingly, Greg gaped in horror. Sherlock rested his palms on his knees and averted his eyes obediently.

He looked like he was trying desperately to bite back hatred.

It was then that he knew exactly what Sherlock was doing.

"Sherlock, up," Greg commanded steadfastly.

"Mas-"

"Now. Up. Master forgive us, we need a moment." He firmly gripped the child's slender arm, Sherlock naturally grimaced in the knight's grasp. The man waited until he was outside the quarters with door firmly shut, before he knelt in front of Sherlock and shook him. "Never do that again Sherlock, do you understand me?"

Sherlock trembled with fear at his master's tight hold and heated words.

"I know you are frightened of me now, but I cannot convey my point in any other way. You will not behave as you would for _him._ You will not kneel at my feet. Ever." He shook the boy again. His broad hand took hold at the back of the child's neck and pulled their foreheads together. "Sherlock, do not act as my…my…little one, please. You are my padawan, my student, my child. You are not my slave."

Sherlock gaped at the man who was holding him. "B-but Master, if I am not good he will…"

"Sherlock, no more of that. You will be as you are when we are in private. You will not be as my obedient padawan. You are a brat of a boy, Curly. Never forget that. You are my welcomed brat." Greg traced delicate patterns over the boy's ears, every now and then tugging on dark curls. "You are free, Sherlock. Never, never, kneel before me like that again."

Sherlock surprised himself by wrapping his arms tightly around Greg's neck. "You are very frightening when you are angered, Master."

"Only because I am so defensive of my brat." Greg stroked the dark hair gently. Secretly he was ashamed of how much he enjoyed when Sherlock was frightened and acted his age. The boy tightened his grip.

"I am defensive of you also, Master," Sherlock whispered. "He is rude to you, he has no right to judge a good Jedi when he himself is vain and has known several women."

Greg stopped himself from admitting his own sin of knowing a woman.

But at least he only knew one.

He caught Sherlock's chin a final time and reminded him not to perform such acts again. The boy was not a slave any longer, he was free. Greg wanted to pull Sherlock closer again, but saw the child's shields fall down once more.

Their vulnerable time was done.

oOo

Sherlock trembled as he sat next to his master.

Lestrade leaned his weight into the child's shoulder, Sherlock steady himself at the mild comfort. The boy rung his hands nervously, but Lestrade placed a warm palm on Sherlock's small knee. Sherlock frowned.

_He is glaring, Master._

_That is okay, Curly._

_He will…_

_Sherlock, shush. _

The boy squirmed, his stomach growled with the fierceness of a rancor. Sherlock frowned, now that his body was growing accustom to being fed, it had become much more demanding. Sherlock look towards Lestrade, who politely asked his master if he had seen his fill of the child.

The answer was of course no.

"Master, he is hungry," Lestrade urged.

"A little hunger cramp never hurt anyone."

Sherlock scowled. "Says the man twenty pounds over his weight average."

Lestrade snickered, but for the sake of appearances shushed the boy with mock stern. Sherlock smiled shyly, the knight winked. But the Jedi master leaned forward in a fashion that reminded Sherlock so much of Moriarty his body responded by sitting on his hands and bowing his head. Lestrade took his shoulder gently.

"Someone has disciplined you well, padawan. It wasn't Gregory, that's for sure. My former student is too soft to instill obedience in a young mind. You have potential, lad. Undoubtedly your master ruins it by allowing you to speak freely." The master glared at the dark headed boy. "I always believed a good wack kept a padawan firmly in check."

Sherlock's head shot up, his eyes blazing. The loyalty that flood across their bond was immense, Sherlock jumped down from his seat. Lestrade felt the room shake with Sherlock's fury. "You hit my master without cause then, sir. I think you will find he is no longer your learner and therefore should not be kept in check. And by your own council's beliefs and morals hitting a child is wrong, the fact that you could not inspire loyalty and obedience in your padawan is not my master's fault!"

Lestrade barely had time to shield his padawan from his master's wrath. He yanked the boy close to him, twisting violently and presenting his back to his former master Lestrade felt a chair meant for Sherlock shatter on his back. Sherlock paled. "Master…"

"Shush, shush, you did the right thing. I told you to be you. It's okay, barely felt it," Lestrade assured. He rubbed Sherlock's back soothingly, but the child wiggled from his grip. Sherlock felt the desire to hide form inside him, he had ensured his master's beatings. No matter what he did the outcome was always evil. His master caught his arm and pulled him so the tiny forehead rested against solid stomach muscle.

"Master," Lestrade began, running his thumb over Sherlock's ear gently. His body hid Sherlock from view. "You will not see my padawan again, nor will you threaten him again. You raised me and for that I am grateful. But understand that is the only thing keeping me from reporting your abuse to the council. If you see Sherlock again, I will report you."

"You dare…"

"Yes, finally." He knelt before Sherlock and smiled into the confused blue eyes. "Thank you, Curly. You were right." He pulled on the forming padawan braid with a small smile. Sherlock's eyes lit up.

"I told you to tell," he whispered.

"I know. I will listen to you next time, padawan. I promise."

Sherlock's lips twitched in a near smile. "Thank you, Master."


End file.
